tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31752719276596108742024-03-13T11:24:45.497-04:00No Clue In VirginiaIdle musings by meJersey Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08790354208252157633noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175271927659610874.post-84453625877598540522014-11-12T11:03:00.000-05:002014-11-12T11:03:21.301-05:00Memories From a Broken Heart<div style="text-align: left;">
My mother, who lived with us for the past eight years, passed away very suddenly last August. We had no warning, not even a hint of what was to come. Her last words to my husband the night before were, "Don't throw away my coffee; I'm going to drink it in the morning". I always told my Mom that she had to live forever because we shared the same soul. Losing her has been devastating and even now, three months later, I'm still in having a hard time with the reality of it all.</div>
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We held Mom’s Memorial Service on her birthday, in October. The minister asked if
anyone wanted to share memories of her and I would have liked to say something but I couldn't speak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ve regretted my inability to stand up and talk at the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had I done so, here are some of the things I
would have shared.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When I was a little girl in kindergarten, I would come home
from school and Mom would give me lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sometimes it was a fried egg – I loved the yolk but was never wild about
the white part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom would wait until I
finished the yolk and then cut the egg into “pie” pieces and give me a piece
for each of my cousins.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The egg would
disappear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In later years, when I
recounted this memory for Mom, she told me that her mother did the same with
her.<o:p></o:p></div>
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She read poems to us and acted them out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can still see her reciting James Whitcomb
Riley’s “Little Orphant Annie”, a poem written in dialogue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> "And the Gobble-uns'll git you, Ef you don't watch out!" </span>I can still recite this poem.<o:p></o:p></div>
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When I was about eight years old, I had to have allergy
shots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom would sing to me and teach me different songs to keep me from being afraid. Singing alto to my soprano, we would
sing together all the way to the nurse’s house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To this day, I can hear her singing “Cheyenne” (Shy Ann) and “Horsey
Horsey” in rich harmony.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I used to sit at the top of the stairwell at night after I was
supposed to be in bed and listen to her playing the organ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Begin the Beguine was one of her
favorites…and mine. She loved music and she loved playing the organ.<o:p></o:p></div>
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She made the best chicken pot pie…the kind with the flour strips. I
have no idea how to make it and I wish I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She also made great sour cream cakes at Christmas time…they were my
favorite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One Christmas, she decided we
would have an old-fashioned theme.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
strung popcorn and hung satin balls and gingerbread men on the tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was a fun Mom.<o:p></o:p></div>
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She cleaned a chicken bone like no one else, even chewing on
the ends of the bones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told her once
it was like living with the Giant in Jack and the Beanstalk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a little sickening, listening to the
bones crunch. <o:p></o:p></div>
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When she moved in with us in 2006, she told me that her
mother always made her an orange flavored cake for her birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always made her an orange cake for her
birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I made one for her memorial service. And I will make one every year on her birthday. </span></div>
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She ate orange marmalade with
peanut butter…I thought that was gross. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She hated my grape jam and peanut butter just
as much.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Her death has had the curious effect of making me feel old
and young at the same time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the one
hand, Mom was the last of her immediate family so I am now part of the oldest
generation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> It seems unnatural. </span>But most of the time, I feel
just like I did the time when I was about four or five and I somehow got separated
from her in a store – lost and panicky. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I'm five years old again. </span>The
relief I felt when she found me that day was palpable…but now, she’s forever
beyond my reach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> H</span>ow does one get over the pain of such a loss? I heard this line on television once and it seems apt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You don’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But one day you wake up and find you don’t mind carrying it around with
you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My broken heart and I await that
day. </div>
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October 24, 1926 - August 16, 2014</div>
Jersey Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08790354208252157633noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175271927659610874.post-51819331946594052542013-09-08T11:10:00.000-04:002013-09-08T11:11:12.018-04:00A Memory of 9/11As I dwell on the potential strike on Syria this close to September 11th, I can't help but recall that terrible day eleven years ago. I was nearby the Pentagon that day and I remember crowding in the only office that had a television in it as we watched the second plane hit the World Trade Center. We all knew then that it wasn't a mistake and not long after that, the plane crashed into the Pentagon. We were Pentagon staff that had been moved out for refurbishment of our offices although I joined the team after the move so I'd never actually worked in that building. I was recalled to active duty a few weeks later and never went back to that job.<br />
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I lived within walking distance of home and walked back to the apartment in a semi-state of shock as smoke from the crash filtered through the air. When I entered our building, everyone at the desk looked soberly at me. I rushed past them, into the elevator, down to the apartment, and in the door before flinging myself on the couch and bursting into tears. We watched the television, like everyone else, obsessively. One of my co-workers, whose car was in the South Pentagon Parking lot, came over and sat with us because he couldn't get to his car and the Metro had been shut down. When the Metro finally re-opened, we walked with him to the station weaving in and out of the cars that were at a complete standstill because the roads simply could not handle all the traffic.For the next several nights, weirdly, I woke up at midnight, my mind's eye still seeing the towers crumbling. It was - and is - still hard to fathom.<br />
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As it turns out, I now work in the Pentagon and there are many reminders of that day from the scorch marks on the walls where the plane finally stopped to the giant "flag" on the wall at the Metro Entrance which has the faces of all those who died that day in place of the stars and stripes. There's the 9/11 Memorial outside and the Chapel where those who tour the Pentagon are always taken. I went on a tour once. The Chapel was hard to take. In addition to all those who were killed, there are two more stories told there. One, about the man who was nearing retirement and was on vacation on 9/11 but was unfortunately on one of the planes that hit the Towers. He died, along with all his coworkers but not together. And then there was the man who was out of the office when the plane hit the Pentagon. All his coworkers were killed and he survived but sadly, his own 11 year old son was on the plane that went down in Pennsylvania. There's no end to the sad stories.<br />
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I'm struggling with the need to take action in Syria. While I agree that chemical warfare is a terrible thing, I can't quite understand why the U.S. needs to do something about it without first exhausting all possible diplomatic efforts. I don't know. But I do know that every day - EVERY DAY - I walk into the Pentagon at the Metro Entrance. As I stand on the escalator, I look over my right shoulder, gaze at the faces superimposed on the flag on the wall...and say a prayer for peace.Jersey Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08790354208252157633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175271927659610874.post-48100265129143315172012-06-08T16:36:00.000-04:002012-06-08T17:00:18.507-04:00A Visit to Paris<br />
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Our visit to Paris, the first ever for either my husband or
myself, was delightful. Everyone talks
about going to Paris and how beautiful it is.
We arrived on a gloomy, cool morning and took a cab to our hotel. Traffic was horrendous and it took a very long
time to get there. Our cab driver, after
the initial “Bonjour” spoke not a word to us but sighed incessantly the entire
trip. I couldn’t blame him. It was a terrible drive but one would suppose
a cab driver would be used to it. We checked into the Oceania hotel at 10 in
the morning and had a quick bite to eat before heading out to see what we could
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It was raining by that time.
Did I say raining? Pouring would
be closer to the truth. We had our
umbrellas, portable golf-size so we walked together under one (Paris <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> the most romantic city in the world,
after all) and carrying the other. The
subway station, Porte de Versailles, was quite close to the hotel (unlike the
Versailles itself which was a long train ride away). The subway system in Washington DC was
fashioned after the Paris Metro so after a few moments of studying, we were
able to figure out how to work the system and find our train easily
enough. Like in DC, you have to know the
last station on a line to determine which train to get on. Unlike DC, the tunnels are extensive, leading
to various platforms and the train you need.
An additional bonus – there is only one price for a ticket to all stops
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We got off at the Notre Dame stop. As soon as we came out of the Metro, there
was a small coffee shop there and we decided to stop and watch the rain from
under cover. We had a coffee and eyed
our surroundings. The Fountaine Saint
Michel was off to our left. Of course,
it was harder to see through the rain and would have to wait for another day.</div>
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The river Seine was off to our left, but mostly all we could
see was the Bridge across it which led the way to Notre Dame. We headed there after our coffee.</div>
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It was still pouring.
I was surprised to find that entrance to Notre Dame was free (in
contrast to Westminster Abbey into which entry costs 15 pounds) and as it was
raining so hard, there were few people lined up to get in. We shook the rain from our umbrella and
stepped into the Medieval period. Those
who know me will understand the impact of that statement for me. My heart resides in the Medieval world and
this cathedral dates back to the 12<sup>th</sup> century. It was built nearly 100 years after William
the Conqueror became the first King of a united Britain during the time of the
reign of Henry II. Much of it inside is
more modern as later Kings contributed to its glory but the building itself is
a marvel. Words cannot do the structure
justice and I still find it incredible that such buildings could have been made
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There was a funeral in process when we got there so people
were pretty quiet. Signs everywhere demand “Silence” and “No Flash”
photography. We studied the wood
carvings which tell the story of Jesus’ life – basically the theme of the
rosary with a few other scenes added.
These were incredible and we walked through quietly looking at each one,
noting which ones were rosary themes. It
was very moving.</div>
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We were getting tired by this time, having flown all night
and gotten very little sleep so we decided to head back towards the hotel. We ate dinner at a restaurant near the hotel
called Clement Versailles. It was early
so we were by ourselves in the front of the restaurant. While we sat there waiting for our food, I
noticed movement out of the corner of my eye.
A tiny mouse, no more than an inch long, was running along the wall and
finding an obstacle, scurried back the way he came. Such is the magic of Paris – I thought he was
cute. I did, however, retrieve my purse
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Johnny should be writing part of this blog because he was
able to continue touring Paris while I was at work. He visited the Arc de Triomphe, climbing to
the top (sending me text messages all the way about how many steps there
were). I did get to see the Arc later in
the week but I wasn’t about to climb all the steps or make Johnny do it twice.</div>
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work. We stood in line for about an hour
and 40 minutes, finally getting to the entrance. (There are two cars that take people to the
top – one of these was broken.) We got in the first car which took us part of
the way up at which point we disembarked and got into another, smaller car to
get to the top. It was still daylight
but hazy; this did not interfere with our view of the city at all. We walked all around the inside at the top
catching all the different views and then climbed one set of steps to the
outside. I have a fear of heights that
is unusual; I’m afraid of dropping things from great height. I don’t know why. But I could not pull my camera out of my
pocket. Fortunately, Johnny took
pictures. <br />
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The lights came on while we
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back and saw twinkling lights come on at exactly 10:00. It was beautiful!
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On the one day I had off, the weather was warm and so
beautiful that I just couldn’t imagine being inside so we agreed to simply walk
about the city. We took the Metro to the
Charles de Gaulle stop and climbed out directly in front of the Arc de
Triomphe. After taking a few photos with
tourists arms in the way, we headed in the other direction down the Champs
Élyseés. It looks much like any other
large city avenue although much wider and we enjoyed looking at stores and
people along the way. We bought gifts
from little kiosks along the way. We
stopped of course, to have something to drink and continue to watch the street
and people. From there, we crossed over
in between the Grand Palais and the Petit Palais (museums) towards a bridge
that reminded me very much of the Memorial Bridge in DC. Since Washington DC
was planned by a Frenchman, I suppose this should not be that surprising.</div>
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We walked along the Seine – not at water level but at the
street level above. This took us along a
sparsely traveled area and apparently it’s a good one for con artists. As we walked along, clearly marked as
tourists by the packages hanging off my arm, a man walking towards reached down
and picked something up from the sidewalk.
It was clever – it gave all the appearance of being real but I had just
been looking there and I knew there was nothing on the walk. He then showed us a “gold” wedding band and asked us if it belonged to us and we said
no. Then he offered it to us “for good
luck” which we politely declined and walked on.
It was funny. Ten minutes later
when a young woman tried to pull the same thing, I waved her away in disgust
and we kept walking. There was also some
sort of petition that we were continually being approached to sign. I have no idea what that was about but we
didn’t do that either.</div>
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There were a lot of houseboats on the water and you could see that some
people make their homes on the water. And just because you live on a
river, doesn't mean you shouldn't have a garden!</div>
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but one of them is for the locks that are attached to the sides. The
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Then we walked through the Tuilleries Gardens on the way
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Lots of foxglove here...poisonous plants.</div>
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Interesting experience here...I was trying to snap a picture when some bratty American teenage girl came running by and tried to throw her hands in front of my shot. Her stupid giggly girlfriends were nearby laughing. I'm not sure why. First, she didn't come close to ruining the shot and second...it's a digital camera. You just shoot again. Embarrassing to run into ugly Americans when you're in another country.</div>
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We took pictures of the Louvre and continued on our way.</div>
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So what didn't I like about Paris? Cobblestone walkways....not easy to maneuver at any time - really inconvenient in heels. Men peeing in public. Really? Uh, yeah. The number of people who were clearly mentally ill. I was shocked at the number of people who were walking about ranting to themselves or just shouting at everyone. They didn't all look homeless either. Still, these few things are a small price to pay for a visit to such a beautiful city. We are definitely going back to Paris.</div>Jersey Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08790354208252157633noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175271927659610874.post-54023227580651152732010-10-31T13:54:00.001-04:002010-10-31T14:06:16.279-04:00Mission Success!I've been in Hawaii for the past week and before envy strikes, let me hasten to say that I'm here for work. Still, it's impossible to deny that Hawaii, specifically the island of Kauai, is a wonderful place to work. Johnny always accompanies me and we get the same condo every time so it sort of feels like we're coming to our place. The weather was more than usually rainy this time but that rarely matters here. Showers rush in, sometimes light and sometimes amazingly heavy, and then dissipate as quickly as they came. Fortunately, mission day was not affected by the weather and it all went well.<br />
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So what it is I'm doing here? This test was actually a Japanese test, where they demonstrated on their fourth and final Aegis ship they are capable of conducting ballistic missile defense making them the only country outside of the U.S. able to perform this mission. At all our missions, international guests are invited to view the event and I, along with a number of my co-workers, are assigned to drive them to the base and escort them as they are not permitted to wander around the facility on their own. At times, it's a bit like herding cats - the operations center is crowded and we have to know where our "guys" are at all times so the escorts continually confer with each other to make sure we know where everyone is. <br />
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When we first got to the range, we learned there might be a delay and in fact, there was. It was fairly short though and as we got closer to the target launch, the room, which had been clamoring with the voices of many different languages, grew quiet. The target launched! It leaves the island of Kauai and we can hear it roar overhead as it speeds it way into space. Our eyes are glued to the screens - we are anxious to see the ship release it's missile. It does, so another hurdle has passed and we hold our breaths for the end game. The missile achieves a direct hit! The room erupts in cheers and the Japanese, for whom this mission is critically important, are thrilled beyond belief. We in the U.S. are also happy - the success of our allies is a high priority and we couldn't be more delighted.<br />
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Check out this You Tube video - the Public Release Quicklook of the mission. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_pr9WY2Xyj0" target="_blank">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_pr9WY2Xyj0</a><br />
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On another note, I had the privilege to escort several Naval Officers from the Republic of Korea. One of them spoke English quite well and we had an interesting philosophical conversation on the way out to the range (it's a long drive as speed limits are quite slow in Kauai). After discussing the difficulty of developing weapons that are sophisticated enough to combat the evolving threats our enemies are building, he mentioned that when he was a young, he believed the world could be made a better place. Searching for the right word in English, he said he was "idealistic" in his youth but now...not so much. I smiled and confirmed that it is so with many people but with age comes the realization that humans never change. There will always be those who seek to destroy rather than build up and that is why our job remains necessary. Evil is ever present. He then said, somewhat wistfully, "But I do not want to...", again he hesitated before saying, "I want to have hope". I told him that is why I believe faith is important - it allows us to hope for a better world and for an ultimate triumph over evil. He agreed and we discussed that for awhile. It was just an interesting conversation to have and it is experiences like this that make me love my job.Jersey Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08790354208252157633noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175271927659610874.post-91457120051601921532010-09-08T09:07:00.000-04:002010-09-08T09:08:40.180-04:00Youth is Wasted on the YoungMy mother asked me the other day if I’d seen any art when I was in Italy. We were in Rome in 2005 – business trip for me and Johnny is the perpetual tourist. I told Mom we did see wonderful works of art when we visited the Vatican and amazingly enough, the hotel we were in had magnificent artwork on its walls (the Hilton Cavalieri – here’s a link to their art collection: <a href="http://www.romecavalieri.com/cavaliericollection.php">http://www.romecavalieri.com/cavaliericollection.php</a>). She then asked me if I’d seen any art when I was there at the age of 17. It was a school trip and I recall going to Florence and seeing the statue of David but as I told my mother, I didn’t appreciate what I was seeing at the time. “Youth is wasted on the young”, I told her jokingly and she replied in all seriousness, “I know”.<br /><br />This started me thinking about all the things I wish I’d paid attention to when I was young. I wish I’d asked my grandmother more questions about the family. Why didn’t I do that? Now that I’d love to know more about my ancestors, it’s too late to get that first-hand source. I do genealogy research (although not so much at present) and many of my fellow researchers have the same lament. I do remember one friend telling me that she was always interested in family history; even as a child she would ask questions. I never did though. I was too busy being young.<br /><br />I was fortunate enough, as I have mentioned, to have the opportunity to go to Italy when I was 17. We visited Rome, Florence, Pisa, and Tivoli. I vaguely remember the Colliseum and the Roman Forum. I remember climbing the Tower of Pisa and being afraid to move at the top (heights are not my thing). I remember the gardens in Tivoli and of course, the Statue of David. With the exception of the gardens, I appreciated none of it. These days, I’m fascinated by history and whenever I have the opportunity, whether in the US or in Europe (where history is inevitably much older), I love to tramp around places and think about what once was. I love to research history. But at seventeen, I had no concept of appreciation for the past. I was too busy being young.<br /><br />Conversely, there are some real advantages to youth. They have more stamina, for one thing. My step-daughter-in-law has a wonderful blog (<a href="http://mizwrite.com/">http://mizwrite.com/</a>) and her most recent blog was about first jobs. The responses to this have been really interesting and fun and I started thinking about how I worked multiple jobs when I was younger. I mentioned that I worked three jobs and went to college at the same time. I started working at a motorcycle shop when I was a senior in high school – they needed a bookkeeper and my bookkeeping teacher convinced me to take the job. After I graduated, I got a job in a glass factory (south Jersey used to be full of glass factories) working the midnight shift. So I would work all night, leave in the morning and go immediately to do the books (this was quick), then go home and sleep for a few hours. Then I’d go to school, come home and go to Sears where I worked in Women’s lingerie. After that, I’d head for the midnight job. Just thinking about this schedule makes me tired now. I couldn’t do this again - I’m too busy getting older.Jersey Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08790354208252157633noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175271927659610874.post-51853243099044177882010-05-09T13:38:00.000-04:002010-05-09T14:08:10.188-04:00My Mother My ChildToday is Mother's Day. I wasn't blessed with children and sometimes, especially around holidays, I feel the lack keenly. But most of the time I accept God's plan, knowing there is a reason. Since my Mother came to live with us, I think I know the reason. She has become my child.<br /><br />It's somewhat difficult to accept this version of my Mother - she, who was so strong (she could stand on her head and water ski holding the handlebar between her knees) and so outgoing is now content to sit at home and watch the world go by. I think one of the things those of us with aging parents experience is the vision of them as we remember from childhood. That they no longer look this way forces us to face the fact that we too are getting older and worse, we are approaching the day when we will be orphans.<br /><br />Mom can no longer see very well and requires hearing aids in both ears. I think this is why she doesn't like to go out that often or talk to others - she can no longer distinguish faces and she doesn't want to ask people to repeat themselves if she hasn't heard them. (She's a champion of the "smile and nod" technique.) She tried going to church a few times but it was too hard for her to hear so she stays home and watches the Hour of Power on television. Leaving her home has become an effort she's no longer willing to put forth.<br /><br />For some reason, she is obsessed with cancer even though this disease has not been prevalent in her family. Her cousin suffered skin cancer though and all winter long, she kept telling me she had skin cancer and pointing to areas of dry skin. We even took her to the doctor to reassure her and now it's become something of a joke. Just the other day she pointed to an area around her ear and said, "I found some more skin cancer" and then, after searching for awhile, "I guess it's not there anymore". "Right, Mom", I replied with no small amount of humor. "Because cancer goes in and out like that". She thought that was funny. Oftentimes, she gives me the cancer line just to get a reaction from me. She makes me laugh. <br /><br />Holidays revolve around her. We always have lots of packages for her at Christmas because she loves the way they look around the tree. My siblings do the same so it looks like there should be more than just three people living in this house when one considers all these gifts. For Valentine's Day, she always gets candy and a stuffed animal (she loves stuffed animals). Last year for Easter, we gave her a giant stuffed bunny (blue, because as everyone knows, Easter Bunnies are actually blue) that she'd seen at K-Mart weeks before and never stopped talking about. This year it was a much smaller, purple bunny and of course, her basket of candy. She loves all these things and the attention that goes with it.<br /><br />She gets things out of the refrigerator and leaves them on the counter. She saves napkins because she's only used a corner of one and the rest is "still good". She won't throw away food but after it goes bad, she'll tell us it can be thrown out. She piles newspapers on the floor and then slips on them practically every time she stands up. She washes her lunch plates and stacks them on the back of the sink instead of letting us put them in the dishwasher because it "saves water". She needs help bathing and getting dressed. She uses special tools to help her open cans and bottles because she no longer has the strength to open them. In every way, she is more child than adult to me.<br /><br />If I sound like I'm complaining, I'm not. She took care of me when I was little and I am glad I can return the favor. She is a bright spot in our lives. Someday she'll no longer be with us. And the house will be terribly empty.<br /><br />Happy Mother's Day.Jersey Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08790354208252157633noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175271927659610874.post-69324608396973246512010-01-13T09:54:00.000-05:002010-01-16T04:45:47.561-05:00Oh To Be in London!Oh to be in London, now that Winter’s here…okay, so I’ve badly butchered Robert Browning’s poem which focuses on all of England in the spring (specifically, April) but I love London in the winter. We arrived last night around 10:45 and by the time we got through Customs, picked up our luggage, got cash, and caught a cab to the airport, it was midnight. Our hotel is the Grosvenor House (a JW Marriott property), a hotel with a lot of history. If you’ve seen “Last Chance Harvey”, you've seen some scenes of this hotel. We checked in, dumped everything in the room and went downstairs to the lounge for, believe it or not…tea. Johnny has had a cold and chamomile tea has been a great help in soothing his throat. We enjoyed our pot of tea, served in exquisitely delicate china, and whiled away the time chatting and watching the many men walking about in tuxedos who’d obviously come from some formal function and were ending the evening with a nightcap. Finally, we headed up to the room, collapsing at about 2am after a very long day.<br /><br />This morning we woke up at 9, when the maid was knocking. We managed to get ourselves up, showered and ready to meet the day…we were only about 10 minutes late meeting my colleague for breakfast. It was snowing, which was somewhat unexpected. Not hard, but the streets were slick and I had to make my way carefully through the slush to keep my boots from slipping. We went to Richoux, which is actually a tea shop but over the years we’ve learned they serve good meals no matter what the hour. I had my customary poached eggs and toast (brown…bread is always brown or white, not wheat or white). I love poached eggs but only seem to eat them in England.<br /><br />Our next stop was the train station where we’d planned to buy train tickets for the next two days to save ourselves the hassle of standing in line. But the ticket issuer suggested we wait as many trains were being canceled and even though I believe tomorrow will be just fine, we agreed to wait. Gatwick airport was still closed last I heard and Heathrow had a number of flights canceled. It seemed odd to me since the snow we’ve seen has been very light and not accumulating but perhaps it’s heavier in outlying areas.<br /><br />It’s very cold and my toes were freezing in my boots…the train station is open to the outside and it felt even colder inside so I decided I needed to supplement my inadequate footgear and get some thicker socks. We caught a cab to Selfridges department store. Selfridges & Co. isn’t quite Harrods, but it’s pretty impressive. Department stores are representative of a bygone era in the US; I remember my parents taking me to Philadelphia at Christmas when I was a child and I was always amazed at the size of the stores. I’m sure they still exist in places like NY but they still seem like yesteryear to me. Selfridges is 6 floors of everything you can think of – here’s a link to the floor plan if you’d like to check it out: <a href="http://www.selfridges.co.uk/index.cfm?page=1312&articleID=10043&artname=Lower%20ground">http://www.selfridges.co.uk/index.cfm?page=1312&articleID=10043&artname=Lower%20ground</a><br /><br />We were directed to the third floor for women’s socks which turned out to be an absurd collection of wafer thin socks that wouldn’t keep the bitter chill off my toes. The men’s department might have a better selection, I thought, so we headed back down to the first floor. There was a very nice pair of socks for 15 pounds, which is about $24 and I thought, pass. That was better than the cashmere socks which would have set me back about $122 – for ONE pair of socks. Um, I don’t think so. Who has money like this? They must get paid well in London. I finally found a package of 3 pairs of socks, athletic style, but black, and they were only 19 pounds for the 3 so that was something I could live with. They’re a little big but I think they’ll be fine – my boots have lots of room in the toes for the excess! We walked through the food and wine shop, one of our favorite areas of the store and finally headed over towards the hotel, stopping to buy water and cokes on the way.<br /><br />Tonight we’ll find a cozy, warm pub and have some fish and chips – Winter in London – I love it!Jersey Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08790354208252157633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175271927659610874.post-7537297792951457082009-12-31T11:47:00.000-05:002010-05-09T13:37:40.704-04:00A La Familia!Family is an amazing thing...they can make you laugh, make you cry, drive you completely nuts, but for me, the best thing is they are there. I particularly love large family gatherings...as a kid, holidays were always more enjoyable when the house was filled with not just our family (4 kids), but my many cousins, aunts and uncles, and grandparents. We're not such a large group these days; my siblings and their families and my Mom, but the four of us always have a great time together, laughing, teasing each other, telling the old stories over and over.<br /><br /><br />We spent New Year's in San Antonio and since Johnny is the oldest of 10, it's similar fun on a much grander scale. On our third night, Johnny announced he was cooking dinner. He loves to cook and especially loves to cook for a lot of people. He settled on chicken alfredo, a dish conducive to feeding large numbers. Normally, he has a rule that no one is permitted in the kitchen when he cooks. This time, not only was I allowed in the kitchen, I was allowed to help! I cut all the vegetables - in a specific order, mind you, and lay them in a bowl so he could cook them in reverse order. Mushrooms, green onions, celery, red pepper, green pepper, white onions, and broccoli...I think that was the order. Johnny takes care of the chicken and gets the sauces going. The kitchen is warm and cozy and wonderful food smells fill the room. Part of the family is already there...Mom, of course, and Larry, Patsy, Chelsea, and Larry Jr. Josie is there also since it is her day to help care for Mom.<br /><br />While we cook, the doorbell is ringing as others arrive. The dogs, Cookie and Nala, tear around the house, get underfoot, barking madly and the house gets noisier. Josie's husband, Danny shows up, with sister-in-law Gloria and grandkids Boogie and Karen in tow. Dorothy arrives with daughter Sarah and Dorothy's husband Ray follows shortly after. We like to gather in the kitchen, even though it's hard to fit us all in there, and people pull up chairs and chat while we work. Dorothy brought salad and is busy in our corner, preparing it. Johnny sets me to preparing the garlic bread and while I work, I cast an eye over the family. A half dozen conversations at once - lighthearted and funny; slightly off-color and accompanied by raucous laughter; a family concern spoken of in quiet tones. The room is alive and vibrating - the hum of voices blends and swells. It's a real party!<br /><br />Now it's time to eat. We serve the salad. Larry tells me he never used to eat salad but now he loves it and proves it by eating two platefuls. Toasted bread is placed on the table and we begin serving plates of chicken alfredo. Boogie, 11 years old, comes back for seconds. Dan feeds chicken to Cookie, who normally hates him but she was willing to call a truce in the face of chicken. Patsy yells - "no feeding chicken to the dogs"! Dorothy is babying Nala, a tiny chihuahua with a bark about 5 times bigger than her body. Larry, the ultimate critic, looks at me as he eats and says, "this is GOOOD"!<br /><br />Gloria tells me, "this is the Johnny I remember...when he was a teenager he was always cooking for us and I would sit at the table and just be in awe of my big brother". She added, "it may sound corny, but it made me feel like a little girl again" (she's 60) but I understood. This family is full of characters, "a bunch of crazies", Mom says, but it's full of love and any time we get together, it's a real celebration.<br /><br />Join me in a toast and echo the words of Danny Aiello at the end of Moonstruck...To Family!Jersey Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08790354208252157633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175271927659610874.post-11325493790995178602009-12-25T13:15:00.000-05:002009-12-25T13:34:42.345-05:00Christmas Day 2009To begin with, we were supposed to be in San Antonio celebrating with Johnny's family. I was sorry the blizzard messed up those plans but we'll be there for New Year's and this way, my Mom wasn't alone on Christmas day.<br /><br />Last night we visited our neighbors, Bill & Shirley who had all their kids and grandchildren with them. Mom and Bill & Shirley are good friends - Mom is always making soup or meat loaf and taking it over to them. We had a lovely time with them...first time we've met their family. Their two sons, Bill Jr. and John, both have newborns who were absolutely adorable. Mom bought presents for all the kids - she was like Santa, handing them out. The babies, of course, knew nothing, but I think their mothers appreciated the little baby outfits.<br /><br />After that, Johnny and I went to Mass...we usually do the midnight service but I was just too tired so we went to the 9:00. We went early and they had a carol sing ahead of time that was a lot of fun. The service was beautiful and we were pleased to see Father Richardson there - he's been recovering from back surgery and is still in a wheelchair.<br /><br />This morning we woke up early - had coffee at our desks until we heard the "pitter patter" of feet upstairs (Mom and the dog)! We ran up to get the holiday started - and I baked cinnamon buns...the cheat kind in the roll, but hey, they're still good. It's still snowy outside since there was so much of the stuff last week...so for the first time in years, it was a white Christmas and despite what some people may think, a white Christmas is NOT overrated! I'm loving it! The sky is gray and we are expecting ice (Booooooo) today but no precip so far. Mom placed calls to my sister and my brothers and step-brother. We ate cinnamon rolls. Then she opened her presents. It's funny how sometimes she seems like a kid to us...at some point in your life, you just seem to revert and instead of getting older, she often seems much like a child and so much more so at Christmas when everyone is a kid anyway. So she had lots of presents to open because we all like her to have presents to unwrap. It was quite a haul between the 5 of us kids giving her stuff. <br /><br />When I baked the rolls, I realized the oven was dirty from the apple pie I made yesterday...so I decided to clean the oven, not realizing that you can't even use the burners when the oven is self cleaning....I shut it completely down when there was 2 hours remaining because I really wanted to eat dinner before 10:00 tonight. Now things are simmering and roasting as they should be. I'm cheating on the stuffing (Stovetop) but I saute onions and celery so the house smells like it does when I actually make the stuffing.<br /><br />We watched The Nutcracker, which I had bought the last time we were at the Kennedy Center - it's the Mikail Baryshnikov version...can't believe I'm 53 years old and have never seen this ballet...or for that matter, any ballet. It was marvelous...the dancing is incredible! We'll have to make an effort to see one at the theater.<br /><br />Johnny is shoveling off the deck - we never got around to that and Mom just went to take a nap. I'm going to go check the turkey.<br /><br />Merry Christmas and God Bless us all!Jersey Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08790354208252157633noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3175271927659610874.post-75773848630836723832009-12-23T21:41:00.001-05:002009-12-23T22:22:40.827-05:00Things Our Driver Told UsWe were recently in London and on the ride back to the airport, we were lucky enough to get a car service who sent a JAGUAR to pick us up! Seriously, I've never ridden in a jaguar and I was very impressed. Okay, so I'm easily impressed...but a JAGUAR!<br /><br />The car was cool...the driver was much cooler. Sati talked the whole way to the airport and even though we've been to London numerous times, told us things we'd never known before.<br /><br />He showed us the gate to Kensington Palace, which I've never noticed despite having ridden past it to and from the airport plenty of times.<br /><br />I mentioned that I loved history and he asked me to name three famous Kings in the world. I was on the spot...I picked William the Conqueror, Louis XV, and Tsar Nicholas. (This last because I just couldn't think of any other King outside of England or France.) Then he told us about a pub along the route called Famous 3 Kings. I had noticed this pub on numerous occasions but we've never gone there...and who are the three kings, you might ask? Sati said, Henry VIII (I should have known that would be one); King Charles (but he didn't know from where - definitely not England); and Elvis Presley. Really. He slowed down as he passed the pub and sure enough, on the sign, there is Elvis Presley in gold lame, standing in front of the other two "real" Kings. We'll have to get back there and take a picture of that sign.<br /><br />Another interesting thing he mentioned was a restuarant called Dans le Noir. I looked this up online and it's not unique to London but I'd never heard of it. It's a restaurant where you eat entirely in the dark...for a real sensation of what it's like to be blind. Not for the faint of heart but it certainly sounded interesting. He said it was expensive and some of the comments I saw on line indicated the food wasn't a great value for the money. I just thought the concept was interesting. Not sure I have the guts for it.<br /><br />That's all I can think of now...Jersey Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08790354208252157633noreply@blogger.com1